Blood Play
by nowherenew
Summary: Lawliet is a college student who frequents a cemetery study spot. One day, he meets a man who looks curiously like him. Becoming friends with Beyond was easy, but staying alive after knowing his secret won't be! BxL
1. My Demon

**A/N: Originally I wanted this to be a oneshot, but after consulting Josephine Falnor (my eternal lover), I decided to make it into a chapter story. Not sure how long it'll be. Maybe three or four chapters. But one can never be sure. This idea came to me while writing the *cough* NEW CHAPTER *cough* of Second Chance. Vampires and fun stuff. I think I'm obsessed with BB being a vampire, since in another story I am in the process of outlining and writing, he is also a vampire. The setting is like a polar opposite of this AU though. Guess who our little stars are? Your favorite couple, BxL. Our most beloved little queer boys. (Get it? BE-loved? Like BEyond? .... Oh, okay. I'll shut up now. :3) Queer in both senses of the word, of course. Oh, and for all you LightxL fans, there might be some in here. MIGHT be. If I figure out how to work it in. Probs not.**

**I know full well that L's name is L Lawliet. I made his name Lawliet Layne. At first it was Lawliet Lane, but my Microsoft Word always did this thing where a window popped up about "Lawliet Lane" not being a real street. Dumb shit thought it was an address. So yeah, it's Lawliet Layne. Deal. I can't have Beyond give him cutesy nicknames if his name is just plain old "L". **

**Enjoy! :3**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I own no trace of Death Note. **

**Warning: Some highly graphic sex, bloodplay, and Beyond Birthday. Nuff said, yo.**

**& & &**

Graveyards are, for some reason, among the most feared and avoided places. They are creepy, that's for sure, but there is nothing truly dangerous about them. Besides tripping and falling, there is not much physical peril that can pertain to "hanging out" in a graveyard. Despite this, rowdy teenagers find that graveyards are perfect for dares or hazing. The fear that young people will feel from being inside an area where so many dead people are will make them even more frightened than if there were actual material danger. I am not afraid of death, or by people who are long gone. I do not believe in this "life after death" nonsense. You are born, you live, and you die. I, personally, enjoy sitting in cemeteries for hours on end, reading or studying. They pose no danger.

At least, that's what I thought before I met _him. _

When I first saw him, it was some night in the middle of autumn. October 21st, I believe it was. Chilly, but not enough so that I needed a jacket. I rarely wore jackets anyway. I liked to stick with my plain three-quarter sleeve shirt and faded jeans. They were quite comfortable. I didn't get cold easily anyway. It was late enough for the sun to have just finished setting, but there were magenta clouds lining the navy sky. I had been studying for an essay test in my Criminology course. When I looked up, I looked at myself.

Well, technically, he wasn't me, but at first I thought I had been looking in a mirror. Ebony hair, spiking in all different directions adorned his thin, angular face. Pallid skin, a tinge whiter than my own (if possible) expanded on all visible skin he had. Wide, unblinking eyes, with dark circles underneath rested on either side of his face, each placed neatly and symmetrically above the cheekbone. After processing that I was not looking in a reflective surface judging by the fact that I didn't see the bench I sat on nor the fact that I was sitting and he was not, I stared at him. His eyes were crimson red. He wore a pair of tight-fitting black pants and a zippered, formfitting grey and black striped hoodie. Burgundy orbs fixed on me, I found myself unable to form words. I wanted to know who this man was, but vocalization was out of my reach at that moment.

He stepped closer cautiously, as if he was afraid. His eyes flashed as I blinked, and he stopped short as I dropped my textbook onto the bench. One foot was in midair. Why was he so skittish? There was nothing to be afraid of. If anyone should be afraid, it should be yours truly. You would be kind of freaked out if some mirror image of you was slowly creeping towards you in a cemetery. In this case, the cemetery didn't bother me, but the man before me did. He made tingles rush up my spine. And not the good kind of tingles like the ones you get when you get a good grade on an essay or a compliment from a professor. He made ice travel through my bones.

I let out a silent exhale, and was relieved that I could use my lungs and throat again. I hadn't even realized that I had been holding my breath. Looking intently on the frozen man once again, I called out, "Who are you?!"

And he was gone. He hadn't run away that I'd seen. He just... disappeared. I shuddered visibly. I had most likely been hallucinating. I picked up my book and continued my studies, though I felt like I was being watched.

**& & &**

I have something to say. I believe myself to be insane. Ever since that mirage of myself popped into my line of vision in the cemetery, I have been exceedingly paranoid. I jump at the slightest sound, and I imagine things when alone. I think that any sound is the sound of an enemy. Maybe this is mad cow disease. That makes no sense, since I only eat suger-laden foods. No beef has entered my system for years, and the last cow meat I consumed was by no means from an industrial farming business. In industrialized farms, calves are fed milk that is made up mostly of cow blood. If cows eat other cows, they develop mad cow disease, which is transferred into humans. I hadn't eaten meat in years, so mad cow was out of the question.

Maybe I was suffering from a suppressed form of Paranoid Schizophrenia? I would hope not. As far as I know, Schizophrenics cannot become detectives. Darn. If my mind screws up my chances as a world-class detective, I will go insane. For real.

Despite the rather eerie phenomenon that had occurred in the churchyard, I wasn't going to just give up my favorite study spot just because I went a little loopy there. It wasn't the poor place's fault, anyway. My beloved cemetery had nothing to fear. I'd gladly protect it to my death!

I really was crazy, wasn't I?

Ah, well. Some of the world's greatest artists were delightfully out of their minds. Edgar Allen Poe, for example, was obviously so far off his rocker you could hardly see him. Van Gogh, the painter, was also quite the loony. I suppose it's quite fitting for me to go a little off the deep end. I was, to be honest, a freak. I had no friends, no social life at all, and I never found it appropriate to attempt at obtaining friends. Oops?

Anyway, due most likely to that very lack of sociability, I sat in the cemetery again merely days later (I believe the date was the 25th of October), poring over a thick volume of case records having to do with Schizophrenic killers or murderers with other severe mental syndromes. Fun.

I suddenly saw something in my peripheral vision. A big, black something was what blocked a part of my line of sight in a blurry form. The black thing was approximately four or five feet from me. I looked up and was met by bloody red circles. I felt a wave of goosebumps travel my body. Absently looking down at my arm, it was (as expected) littered with tiny growths.

"Hello." The raspy voice startled me. The blood-eyed man's voice was nothing like mine. So he wasn't a hallucination. Well, at least I'm not mad. It would be highly inconvenient to be insane. But I supposed that even though the voice of my previously assumed to be mirage was different than mine, it wasn't necessarily existent. Maybe my mind had produced a rather obscure, dark side of me that I didn't know existed.

"Hello," I replied. One cannot ignore their own mind. I knew that this was most likely not the best idea; indulging your own rapidly decreasing sanity level is definitely not something you should try at home. To this day, I regret doing that. Knowing that he existed past the barriers of my rather fractured mind led to me writing this right now, and although it seems silly, it's both the worst and best thing that's ever happened to me in my life—meeting him, that is.

He moved closer, and I didn't tense. He was imaginary, what did I have to be afraid of? He was simply a product of my tattered sanity. He sat beside me and I sighed. For a figment, he smelled real. He sounded real, too. And incidentally, he felt real. He smelled like some sort of crushed fruit. If I had to put a finger on it, I'd say it was processed strawberry. It was a pleasant smell. And lord, did he sound real. He sounded like the crisp ding of a cell phone ringtone. He sounded like the heavy breath of someone about to get caught. His voice was hoarse and gravelly, but it was a soothing tenor, not quite as deep as my own. It was more feminine than my own, but his tone's gruff resonance confirmed his masculinity. As he brushed against me with his clothed arm, I sighed.

He was real.

This didn't come as much of a shock, but I was slightly relieved. Being mentally ill would really cause some troublesome hurdle in my criminal justice career. I can completely understand how they do not want psychotics working around the police system, but if I had been crazy, I should be an exception. Why? Well, because I would have gone crazy by _accident. _It's very different than actually being crazy.

You see, when someone is actually schizophrenic, unstable, and dangerous, they are either born that way or traumatic experiences pushed them to go insane. I was most certainly not born a psychopath. I go to the doctor regularly, and two of my minors in school were Abnormal Psychology, the study of unexpected or unintentional behavior, and Psychopathology, the study of mental illnesses. After two years of extensive studying mind-oriented anomalies, I'm pretty sure I'd have known if I was insane. Furthermore, I could only recall one incident that happened to me that would be identified as "traumatic". My parents died when I was a toddler. Seeing as I could not remember my parents at all, it hardly counted as traumatic—let alone upsetting enough to make me go crazy so many years afterwards.

Snapping back to attention as the simultaneously raspy and smooth voice spoke again, I looked over to meet his blood-red eyes as he stated blandly, his tone somehow seeming forced in its even pitch, "My name is Beyond Birthday. What is your name?"

"My name is Lawliet. Lawliet Layne," I replied. I closed my book politely, not wanting to seem rude by reading when someone was talking to me.

"That's a nice name. Do you study at the university nearby?" He gestured towards my Abnormal and Dangerous Mental Illnesses textbook.

"I do." I looked him in the eyes and the lopsided grin he was sporting dragged a small upturning of my own lips.

"Would you like to be my friend?" His tone was serious, as though he asked this of everyone he met. I cocked an eyebrow at him, and he added tentatively, "Please?"

And that was the beginning of what I'm going to fondly call my life from then on.


	2. His Angel

**A/N: Hi! It's winter break, so I decided to just cough up a new chapter. Forgive me if it's almost two months late; my muse isn't doing too well. You shoud GIVE me muse by REVIEWS and PMING me IDEAS. Not to drop a hint or anything, haha! **

**No, seriously. PM me ideas. **

**I asked for the legal ownership of Death Note for Christmas, but I didn't get it D8. Darn. **

_Italics: _**Dreams and stuff.**

**Believe it or not (haha, Believe...), I actually listened to Sexy Bitch and Get U Home for a period of time while writing this chapter. If you can guess one of the scenes where I listened to them, I'll give you a oneshot. Or possibly a chapter story. But you have to review.**

**& & &**

Maybe it was a mistake. The probability of it being a mistake was less than ten percent, but it might be just an accident. He couldn't have done it on purpose. Maybe I was imagining—nope, he really was wearing it. Why, I have no clue. He sat next to me and offered a French fry from a McDonald's bag. Shaking my head politely, I looked at his outfit for a moment before asking, "Why are you wearing the same clothes as me?"

He blinked, wide eyes full of shock. "Friends are similar, yes?" He brought his tennis shoe-clad feet up onto the bench to sit with crossed legs, picking absently at the laces of his shoes.

I frowned, surprised at this behavior. Well, he had in mind our friendship when he dressed like me, but it was still creepy. "Beyond, friends can be similar or completely different. Usually, similarities between friends are things like common interests, you know? Anyway, we look like twins, clothes regardless. It's creepy to see a carbon copy of myself, no offense."

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he shrugged. "I guess you're right. To be honest, I wanted to see if you'd freak out, too. I had a feeling you'd be scared or something." He flashed a mischievous smile towards me, then popped a French fry into his mouth. Oh, superb. My only friend was probably going to be testing my sanity every time he got a chance.

"I'm not scared," I said defensively. "It's just... unnerving."

"I know you're not scared." Pausing, he asked, "How old are you, again?"

"Twenty three." I looked at him pointedly, expecting a reply of his age, but none came. I cleared my throat and asked, "How old are you?"

"Not too old." He grinned and waited for me to begin an appalled retort. The moment I opened my mouth, he laughed. "No need to get wound up; I was kidding. I'm nineteen."

"I see. Do you go to college?"

"My scholastic needs are.... very taken care of," he replied. Could his vagueness possibly be more infuriating? If we were going to be friends, he might as well tell me things about himself! Sighing, I opted to try again for information.

"So, where do you live? I live in an apartment just a few blocks away."

"I live close to here," was the only answer. He slowly ate another French fry, almost contemplatively. Well, that was more than I had before. Maybe I could dig deeper, if I tried....

"What was your childhood like?"

He didn't answer. I took a deep breath and reached over, stealing a French fry and taking a bite. He looked at me with wide eyes, almost as though it was inconceivable to him that I would steal food from him. I started at him and said intently, "Beyond, I think we should share more things with each other. As friends, you know quite a bit about me, while I know close to nothing of you. I don't see this as fair."

Beyond stood up, and my eyes snapped to meet his. He had removed himself from the bench so fast I must have blanked for a moment. Nobody was that fast. "I apologize, Lawliet. I need to go home now, I haven't changed my cat's litter in two weeks and she tends to.... rebel, if you know what I mean. And I don't like to clean the carpet. I'll see you tomorrow."

I opened my mouth, then closed it. "Beyond..."

Stepping closer, I noticed that Beyond's face had taken on a menacing appearance. It was as though the shadowing had forced him into a slight grimace, but there was no emotion on his face. It was just.... different. Almost frightening. "Lawliet, if you wish to know something of my childhood, I will tell you that it was a promise never fulfilled."

And with that, he was walking away, hands in his pockets. I noticed that he'd left his McDonald's bag. Sighing, I picked it up to toss it in the trash bin as I made my way home, weaving through the enlarged shadows of graves due to the setting sun. Rays of gold and pink adorned the world as I wondered what in the world Beyond could have been talking about. I might have touched on a tricky subject, but he wasn't the type to become very defensive like that. He was probably just being cryptic.

Reaching my apartment, I tossed my keys on the table and started to check my mail. Bills, bills.... and an issue of Game Informer? Picking it up, I noticed it was addressed to my neighbor, Mail Jeevas. "Stupid postman," I muttered, opening my door and knocking on the door across the hall. "Mello? Matt?"

Opening the door was a tall, lanky redheaded boy. Scratching the back of his arm, Matt smiled. "Oh, hey, L. What's up?"

"The postman screwed up again," I replied, holding out his magazine.

"Oh, thanks, man!" He took the magazine from me and asked, "Hey, do you want to hang with me and Mello? We're ordering a pizza, but we have some cupcakes if you want any."

A blond boy the same age as Matt appeared in the room closest to the door. "Matt! Come ba—oh! Hey, L!" He bounded to the door, a wide smile on his face. "We've got cupcakes, if you want to stay for dinner!"

I laughed. These two knew me too well. "If you insist." Stepping inside, I noted Mello scrambling to clean the living room, yelling at Matt for leaving his stuff out. Matt just chuckled, tossing a ball of paper at the back of Mello's head.

"Chill out, you queen." Turning to me, he smirked. "So, have you got a new buddy or something?"

I was more than slightly taken aback. "What makes you think that?"

"You just seem more relaxed." Matt shrugged.

Relaxed? Beyond's murderously enigmatic behavior has driving me crazy! I was NOT relaxed! Beyond and his avoiding questions and creepy humor were doing nothing for my serenity. I looked at Matt and nodded, wondering if . "I have a new friend, I guess."

"Do tell!"

"Matt, mind your own business," snapped Mello.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Bitch."

"Clitnibbler."

"I am NOT!"

"You lose." Mello's smirk seemed to have an air of its own, almost taking up a part of the room.

My choices in friends might have been damaged.

**& & &**

That night, I had a peculiar dream. I almost never sleep, so dreams were unusual for me in and of themselves. But this dream.... It frightened me, and I don't scare easily. I remember it very clearly. As soon s I fell asleep, it enveloped me fully, bringing me into its brutality.

_Two people walked down a dimly lit street long after the safety of daylight. One a female with long hair as dark as the night sky itself, and the other male, a hood pulled over his dark blond hair. The two of them walked on separate sides of the street. One of them was heading home from a tiring evening of partying, while the other had forgotten his tin of tobacco at the bus stop and had begrudgingly went back to retrieve it. The man, Rival Rune, glanced over at the source of the sound of clicking across the street. A young woman who couldn't have been much older than himself was heading the same direction as he was walking. Her several-inch heels were clacking along the sidewalk loudly. The woman, who was named Jade Jumpsuit, reached her townhouse just as Rival reached the bus stop. Suddenly, the man saw a figure shadowing the woman, and before he could scream to warn her, she was gone, and the only thing his gaze met with were two red orbs, then darkness._

_Jade Jumpsuit woke up to a damp room. Sitting up and looking around frantically, she noticed that her movements and thoughts were far from speedy. Fearing the possibility of date rape, she started to stand up, but her wrists were tied firmly behind her back and fastened to something. Then, she did what any woman would do in her position. She screamed. Her shrieks consisted of pleas for help, of curses, and jumbled words and sounds._

_"Would you shut up?" A raspy, youthful voice interrupted her deafening sounds._

_Whipping her head to the left, she saw a man in the room. Her brain not cooperating with logic, she gasped and started screaming again. "Get me out of here! You sick fuck, let me GO!"_

_Rival rolled his eyes. "Do you understand that I'm trapped here too? My hands are tied just the same as yours are. Just calm down, we need to figure out how to get out of here." The blond had woken up around an hour before Jade did. He'd panicked too, but then he began concentrating on escape. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to work with here. He and the dark haired woman were tied to sturdy metal arches in the floor, their backs against the wall. The material he had been restrained with was certainly not rope, but it wasn't chains either. It was like a thick, flexible cord. He'd attempted to untie it, but it wasn't even a real knot. It was a complete mess of bonds. His elementary school Boy Scout training couldn't help him now._

_The room itself must have been some sort of basement, since the only window was a very dirty glass panel on the very top of the wall opposite the door. A flickering light bulb hung from the ceiling, illuminating the room at least a bit. The two captives were about twelve or thirteen feet away from each other, so physical assistance was impossible. There was light filtering in from underneath a heavy metal door, but Rival couldn't see anything else from where he was. He doubted the girl would be able to, either. Even if she was in a position that enabled her to inspect the next room from that small opening, her frenetic behavior was preventing rationality to enter her mind._

_"You expect me to calm down?! We're in a dark room, tied to the fucking floor! Some psycho is probably going to murder us and hang our livers on his wall!" Jade struggled ferociously, determined that if she wriggled enough, she would break free of her restraints._

_"That might be true," nodded Rival. "But if we have any chance of avoiding that stuff from happening, struggling and shitting a brick won't help anything."_

_Jade whimpered. "My name's Jade."_

_"I'm Rival. Do you have any enemies?"_

_"Do you?"_

_"Not really." He sighed. This was going nowhere fast._

_"Unless you count Starbucks for my not being able to decide on a drink, then me neither," the girl replied. Remembering her slow reaction and feelings of heavy muscles, she said, "I think I've been drugged..."_

_"You probably have. I'm pretty sure I was, too."_

_"What do we do?"_

_Rival paused. There really was nothing they could do about the situation. "I don't think we can do anything."_

_Before Jade could reply, the metal door swung open, and a thin man entered the room, his dark hair unruly and his smile unnerving. "Kya ha ha ha! Hello, my pretties," he spoke. He held a long carving knife, the blade smooth and razor sharp, but not serrated. His face was obscured, and as he stepped closer, he swung his hand up and smashed the faltering light bulb, glass shattering everywhere. The only light now was the small amount of dim orange glow from streetlights that managed to force a way through the tiny window._

_Jade started screaming again, but the man kicked her to the floor and stepped on her neck with a bare foot. "Shut up, slut, or I'll crush your larynx," he hissed. Kneeling to obtain easier access to the terrified girl, he leaned into her neck and smelled it. Opening his mouth, he grinned to himself as he relished the aura of complete horror emanating from her. "Now, be still, or I'll get mad," he giggled, then punctured her soft skin with teeth much like those on a wild animal. Drinking the sweet liquid that kept living things alive and nourished the undead, the duo's captive was instilling a thick fear through Rival's body. _

_After drinking enough to be satisfied, the unidentified man stabbed the girl repeatedly, killing her fully. He proceeded to mutilate the dead corpse, doing things to the body that nobody should ever know were possible, let alone see with their own eyes. By the time the man turned to face Rival, the other man had frozen in disgust and terror. He knew he was getting the same, and when the end came for him, he was grateful. _

_"Your times were up anyway, my darlings," said a voice, nudging the dead body of the male victim with his foot. He opened the door and stepped away, locking it behind him._

I woke up simply. Not in a cold sweat, or screaming in fear. It was as though I never had a dream at all, and this sleep was exactly like my other dreamless slumbers. But I suppose that waking so dramatically, even from a dream such as mine, is something that only happens in movies. The dream, although not affecting my manner of waking up, still greatly unnerved me. Yes, the violence and gore my mind had fed me during my sleep was upsetting me, but what really disturbed my peace of mind was that I was absolutely, positively _certain_ I had seen Beyond in my dream. I couldn't remember where, but I remember seeing him somewhere during my reverie. Of course, the fact that it was a dream disproved the significance I saw in it, but it haunted me all day.

I waited at the cemetery's entrance for Beyond, and when he came, I told him we were going downtown. He looked at me with raised brows, but he didn't argue.

"You'll never believe the dream I had last night," I began as he sat down in the passenger seat of my car. He buckled his seat belt and shut the car door, and looked at me expectantly. I continued my story, telling him everything about the dream. "I even saw you in there at one point, but I can't remember where. Isn't that creepy?"

"Well, it's a good thing it was just a dream." He was smiling, but it was different than usual. He turned to me and laughed. "That sucks, if it's your first dream in a while."

I realized a little while later that I hadn't replied, and said quietly, "Y-yeah..." His change in behavior jarred me slightly. His usual mysterious demeanor was interrupted by this unexpected friendly conduct. He was being normal, and it was suspicious.

Pulling into the parking lot of my favorite pub, I exited my car and waited for Beyond to do the same. After he got out to join me and I locked the car and headed for the door. He followed me inside and looked up at the TV above the bar, clicking his tongue as he saw the story on the news.

**"Twenty-seven year old Jade Jumpsuit and college freshman Rival Rune were found dead this morning in an abandoned warehouse close to the pier. Their bodies were mutilated after death according to one of the morticians on the scene, and not a trace of forensic evidence has been discovered except that of the victims. If you know anything about what might have happened to these two, please call the number displayed on the screen or your police station."**

"God, there's all kinds of psychos running around," Beyond mused, taking a sip of his beer. Hearing no reply from me, he turned to face me, and he saw my shocked expression. "Lawliet? You okay?"

I frowned, looking closely at the photos once more. There was no more doubt in my mind. Those two people were the same exact ones that were in my dream. "Beyond, I've seen them before."

His eyes widened. "Where?"

"Those are the people in my dream!"

"Lawliet, don't be silly. Dreams aren't real."

Distressed, I raised my voice. "But I SAW THEM!"

Eyes widening, he grabbed my arm. Taking me outside, he looked me in the eyes. "L, chill the fuck out. It was just a dream. You probably saw them somewhere else and they were in your dream for some reason. Dreams aren't visions. Okay?"

"O-okay," I stammered, timidity coming over me as his firm voice registered in my mind.

He smiled, and it was the smile I knew. The goofy, lopsided grin, the one that made me feel ticklish and happy to have a friend like him. Somebody who understood me without having to try. "Let's go get food."

And we did. And soon enough, I forgot about my dream. For the most part, anyway. It still bothered me when I wasn't expecting it, because I was positive that it wasn't just a dream. The fact that Beyond was in my dream troubled me as well. I needed to know if it was just my mind playing tricks on me or if he was actually involved with the incident I dreamed about.

I would get my answer sooner than I expected.


	3. Not Unheard Of

**Okay, here's the thing, lovelies. No matter how many horror movies I watch, how many episodes of CSI/Bones/Law and Order, I STILL FAIL AT GORE! D8 But because I'm awesome, I'll try really, really hard to feed my beloved readers some nice gore. There might not be that much though, because of L and how B wants L to stay with him. L would be all "Um, ew."**

**SOYEAH. I'll try to give you all some (yummy?) flesh and guts and innards. All the fun stuff. **

**This chapter is when you find out a little more about the VAMPIRE SOCIETY (GASPDOOM) and it's pretty cool beans. This chapter is pretty important, and focuses on B. I'm not making this L's dream, so tell me if this chapter is awkward (taking into consideration that L is the narrator).**

**& & &**

In the heart of a remote country in eastern Europe lay the headquarters in which the Undead's Council resided. The successor to the previous chief of vampire law enforcement was a young man named Light Yagami. Chosen by the first chief, Ryuk, Light's vampirism had reached two hundred years as of late. The "young" man had a very strict set of ideals, and his humanity was evident in his revising of the vampire's constitution. While for thousands of years, vampires had functioned perfectly without a set of written laws, Light felt that if vampires had a law enforcement service, written laws were most certainly in order.

The rules were simple. Respect your dead (treat your victims responsibly post mortum). Cover your tracks. Never reveal your identity as a vampire to a human. Never reveal another vampire's identity to a human. Brutal killings are prohibited unless a note from your doctor proving your mental instability is procured. Lastly, eating the flesh of a human is forbidden.

The consequences of breaking the rules were almost as simple. Depending on the degree of the crime, punishments could range from isolation to death. Trials were unheard of during the times of Light's ruling. Light thought of himself as a god to vampires.

The Yotsuba Group was a team of vampires that voted on decisions the police would take. Light knew that if he tried to rule like the king he thought himself to be, he'd be assassinated within months. Even though the Yotsuba Group existed to keep Light from becoming too full of himself, things usually went his way. But they did the dirty work.

Of course, Beyond Birthday detested rules. He was a top. An aggressive top. Despite this, he usually followed the rules. When he did break them, he covered it up rather skillfully. But this time, he'd been.... quite distracted. He'd been found out, and even worse, the humans knew. He was screwed.

"We can't let him live!" A man with long dark blond hair fidgeted nervously in his chair. "He's gone too far; the humans are investigating!"

"I agree with Takahashi," said a bald man with a broad form. "We've uncovered his other acts against the laws, but only recently. He's crafty, that's for sure. He's probably doing it to tease us. He wanted us to find those other things; he wants us to know he's above the laws."

A snicker came from a feminine man with long, dark hair. He shook his head, amused by the sheer ignorance he was surrounded with. Frowning, a chestnut-haired man stood up from his chair, slamming his fists down on the circular table. "What are you laughing at, Namikawa!?!"

"Sit down, Higuchi," came the reply, the smooth voice condescending. "Could I request that each of you actually use your brains here? Obviously, Beyond Birthday led us to his petty crimes. But this is no petty crime. Killing a child instead of an adult or going out of one's way to look out of place to tempt suspicion is far different from mutilation of victims. He didn't want us to know about this one."

The man named Higuchi snarled, "Are you saying he fucked up? The guy's so finicky he could clean a garbage dump!"

"No, of course not," drawled Namikawa boredly. "Beyond Birthday was distracted. He wasn't concentrating the way he usually does." He paused, then continued, picking at a split end daintily. "We have to find the distraction, and use it to our advantage."

"We can't go up against B! He's at least eight hundred years old," shouted another man.

"Of course we can't," agreed the brunet to Namikawa's right. "What do we do?"

"Was anyone paying attention?" Namikawa sighed heavily. "We don't have to do anything. It's up to our forces."

"What do we know?"

"He recently has been in contact with a human male by the name of Lawliet Layne."

"I heard B's gay."

"Maybe."

"Indeed."

.....

"I heard he's g—"

"Yes, we heard."

"Oh."

"If he's taken a liking to the human like our sources say, then we can definitely use this against B."

"What do we do with it?"

"We can reduce B to a pile of whimpering snot. Tell the enforcers to seize the human, and we'll take care of it from there."

"What if Beyond Birthday doesn't cooperate?"

"Then we kill Lawliet Layne," Namikawa snapped as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It's just another human."

**& & &**

Beyond Birthday was not a thinker by nature. Yes, he was significantly intelligent and he was quite devious, but his scheming was definitely not something to describe him by. Not at all. Beyond Birthday was a doer. He took action. His actions were far more elaborate than his plans, because there was always something he could add as a finishing touch. There was always something he could do, always an extra detail.

Recently, he was a thinker.

Obviously, he wanted Lawliet. Duh. He wanted to be that man's dream, his hope. He wanted to love Lawliet. He knew the moment he saw the man that he was meant to be with him. Why else would he have thought up that particular disguise on that certain day? He was the copy. He'd turned himself into Lawliet without knowing he was creating himself in Lawliet's image.

But there was a slight dilemma. See, interracial relationships were uncommon, but not unheard of—in human society. Gay interracial relationships were even more uncommon, but still not unheard of. But there was a significant difference between interracial relationships and interspecies relationships. Beyond was simply peeved that humans insisted that there were different races of humans. It was much better to think of Lawliet and himself as an interracial couple rather than an interspecies couple. Interspecies sounded like he was dating a squirrel or something. Lawliet was definitely not a squirrel.

Lawliet was cuter than a squirrel. By far.

Also, Lawliet couldn't know he was a vampire. That kind of thing ruined perfectly good friendships. Something about having a friend who drank blood seemed to be one of humans' pet peeves. Darn.

Unless he were to kidnap Lawliet or make him into a vampire, they couldn't be together. And B wouldn't kidnap L. No way, ever. He wouldn't do that to his friend. His soulmate.

Unless he absolutely HAD to. Because, you know, if it was to protect L, he might not have a choice.

Yeah.

**& & &**

**Ew. Sorry for the short chapter. But the next one is going to catapult you all into the real plot, so look forward to it! Please review and send me PMs with ideas (if you have any!)**

**VOTE ON MY POLL, SLAVES. =3**

**Peace out, brussel sprouts.**


	4. Swept Off My Feet

**Ew, guys. I'm really trying to work hard to make these chapters long, but I want suspense, and my plot is moving at the SPEED OF LIGHT and as such, long chapters are pretty tough. I usually only write 1,500-2,000 words a chapter, anyway. O.O That makes them seem even shorter ;;**

**VOTE ON MY POLL. OR ELSE I WILL NEVER UPDATE THIS AGAIN. I am not bluffing.**

**& & &**

They knew.

It was so obvious! Beyond had no idea why he didn't realize it before. Even the humans knew of his err, despite the fact that they saw it not as a fatal mistake, but as just another psychopath on the loose. It was impossible for any of those damned Yotsuba pawns to touch him, though. Even Light, the self-proclaimed vampire king, couldn't go up against him. He was older than all of them. There was no way in hell that they would chance that. The risks were too much.

But he'd broken a big rule. He broke the big rules a lot, of course, but this one was an issue. He'd been careless. He had been too distracted; hadn't thought it through. Well, of course he thought it through, but he didn't finish. He didn't hide them. They couldn't touch him, not even those crazy police would go near him. But they wouldn't stand for someone like him to go unpunished. They were the justice system, and he'd breached their precious laws.

But what would they do? Surely they couldn't know about Lawli. They can't have known about him. Even if they did, they probably thought he was a prospective victim. Yes. They weren't that smart, they'd never know. Beyond knew he was followed at almost all times whilst in public, unless he didn't want to be. Those impeccably dim-witted Yotsuba morons thought he didn't **know **when he was being followed?! They probably thought that when their stalker couldn't trace him, it was because he'd made a mistake. Oh, no.

When their stalker couldn't trace him, it was because Beyond Birthday didn't want to be found.

But they were being tailed that night when Lawliet had a fit about the news, and after they left the bar for Pizza Hut, he'd followed. Had he seen the way Beyond looked at Lawli when the beautiful human had been looking elsewhere? Had he seen the incident when Beyond stole the man's napkin and smelled it when Lawli went to the toilet? Had he noticed when Beyond, during Lawli's same bathroom break, took his friend's fork into his mouth and relished the sweet taste from L's tongue?

Oh, _shit. _

Beyond haphazardly tugged a black long sleeved shirt and tight grey jeans onto his slim frame and hurried out the door, taking out his cell phone and dialing L's number.

**& & &**

When I heard my phone ringing at half past eleven, I wondered who would be up at this hour (besides Mello and Matt, that is. They've been loudly having wild sex for hours. I tried to block it with television, but I could feel my brain sizzling in slow agony of the reality TV frying pan and had to turn it off and continue to endure their ragged breathing and endless moaning. How can breathing be that loud!?). Checking the screen of my phone, I saw that Beyond was calling me. He hadn't showed up this afternoon like usual, so I was glad to hear from him—I'd been worried.

"Hello, Beyon—"

"Shh! They might be listening," hissed Beyond. I could hear his panting, and a small thudding sound was coming through the phone. "I'm coming to your apartment now, but don't let anyone else in. If anybody else calls, don't answer the phone. Am I very clear?"

"Beyond, what's this about?" His graveness was worrying me quite a lot. Beyond was sometimes serious, but he never panicked like this. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, it's you I'm worried about," came the reply. "I'm coming down your hall now, okay?"

"Um, okay," I replied quietly. The fact that I had no idea what was going on in this situation was making me nervous. I wasn't sure how to deal with my nervousness, so I began pacing.

"I'm hanging up now, but I'm at your door. Answer it." The line went dead and I opened the door. Marching in was Beyond, looking very frazzled. He went to my bedroom and I ran after him, protesting.

"Beyond, what are you doing?"

"We need to leave. Now."

I let that simmer for a moment, then said sternly, "No. I'm staying in school."

"No, you're coming with me. There's people who want to hurt you to get to me, and I need to keep you safe." He opened my drawers and closet. "Pack, now."

"No!"

"Lawliet, if you don't come with me of your own choice, I'm taking you by force. You're coming with me, no matter what." His eyes cut into my body and into the very reaches of my soul, seeming to pick me apart and leave the pieces in the open for him to dissect.

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

"Why?!"

"Because I need you to be safe. There are those who want to hurt me, but they're cowards, and they're coming for you as we speak. They know that if they get to you, I'll come soon after. You're my only friend. It's my obligation to keep you safe."

"Beyond, why do you have this kind of enemy?!" My voice cracked a little. Was my best friend part of some drug cartel? Was he one of the people I was studying to put in jail? That thought hurt me more than I can say. I trust Beyond, and I don't want him to be a criminal. It's the last thing I need.

Walking closer to me, he bit his lip, and I didn't step back from him. I wasn't afraid of him, rather the possibility that he was something I couldn't stand for him to be. "I've been a bad boy," he said, and reached behind my head. His hand, cold and very gentle, rested on the back of my neck, and then he pressed down on something that made me go woozy. I fell into him, and I remember the feeling of his hands stroking my hair before my memory fades into darkness.

**& & &**

When I woke up, I wasn't quite sure of what had happened. In fact, for a few moments, I didn't remember anything from that little episode at all. I was lying in a cozy bed, which was quite nice, to be honest. It was very warm. I reveled in the softness of the sheets for a while before realizing that my best friend (and possible thief? Drug dealer? Murderer?!) had kidnapped me. Good god.

"BEYOND!" I didn't know where he was, so I found my actions to be justified. Leaping from the bed, I banged on the door furiously, screeching at the top of my lungs. "BEYOND BIRTHDAY! COME HERE! LET ME THE HELL OUT OF THIS PLACE!!"

I heard scuttling and muttering from the other side of the door and then, rather unexpectedly, the door flew open and sent me careening backwards. Beyond gasped and rushed to catch me, but wasn't quite fast enough. I hit the floor with my bum first. Groaning from the soreness in my tailbone, I swiftly remembered why I was yelling at him in the first place. "Beyond," I snarled, pulling myself to my feet, "Why the hell am I here?!"

"I told you," Beyond huffed, looking at the floor. "There are people who want to hurt you, and only I can help you."

Oh, right. The people who want to hurt me. "I could have called the police if they came to me," I argued. "There was no reason to kidnap me."

"No, no, no...." Shaking his head, my friend brought a hand to his cheek, rubbing it in irritation. "The police can't help. Nobody can help except me."

I stared at him, then buried my face in my hands. "I can't do this, Beyond. I can't... I can't do it.... I need to go to school, I need my education...."

Beyond, seeing my distress, frantically tried to comfort me. "I can get your assignments for you! Please, this is for your own good.... don't.... don't be upset...."

"I'M NOT UPSET!"

"O-okay.... nevermind, you're not upset...."

"LEAVE ME ALONE," I shrieked, pointing at the door. "RIGHT NOW!"

And he did. If I'd been watching, I would have seen the tears on his face and the broken look in his eyes. If I'd been listening, I would have heard the whispered "I'm sorry" that escaped from his chapped lips. But I didn't see, and I didn't hear.

**& & &**

"The boy's gone," said a monotone voice. A dark hooded creature turned to face its partner. "No trace."

"Report to Yotsuba with news," came the almost mechanical reply.

A caramel-haired young man walked into the room, picking up an old white quarter sleeved shirt and smirked, taking a deep whiff of the sugary scent. Holding up a finger to halt the officers, he called, "Oh, and boys? Tell Higuchi he needs to see me. Namikawa as well." He folded the shirt and stuffed it into his pocket, kicking over the bed. "They have some explaining to do."


	5. Not Joking

**Um, yeah. I lied about not updating. I just wanted for people to vote. But I actually do have not the best muse for this at the moment. Just this awkward period of time where Lawli is all "HATER" on poor little Beyond and then forgiving him is stumping me. So review/PM with ideas. **

**I NEED HELP ON WHAT TO DO WITH B AND L. I DON'T KNOW HOW TO MAKE THEM FRIENDS AGAIN D8.**

**& & &**

It had been three days since my imprisonment began. Maybe Beyond was just joking around. It's possible. Unlikely, but conceivable. There's a relative chance this is a joke.

.....

Okay, it's not a joke. I saw the fear in his eyes when he came to my apartment. But if he _is _a murderer/bank robber/psychotic killer/cannibal/rapist, what am I supposed to do? Since he didn't murder me, rape me, or eat my flesh and intestines when I yelled at him the other day, he most likely isn't any of those things. But what kind of civilian his age has enemies that even the police couldn't fight?

Mind, this is when you come up with ideas.

Yes, you, frontal lobe.

.....

Well, this is embarrassing.

He gives me food, heat and a bed. He doesn't talk to me anymore, though. Maybe that's because I hiss angrily at him whenever he starts to speak. Even so, that's perfectly justified! He kidnapped me, so I can be moody if I like. He _does_ kind of look like a depressed hamster when I ignore him like that, though. It makes me feel bad for trying to bite off his finger when he reached out to touch my hair.

When he looks at me with those big, glistening eyes much like the way a sick kitten would, it takes almost every cell of determination I have to keep kicking him in the shin and pouting like a teenager throwing a tantrum. He's like a kicked dog! I'm going to cave soon if he keeps doing that!

But I can't cave. He kidnapped me. Abducted me from my OWN home and brought me here (wherever this place is) because some people were after me. These "people" were probably some sort of illusion. Great. My best friend, who also happens to have hallucinatory tendencies, seems to have kidnapped me.

I feel safer than airport security. Safer than the Queen of England. Hooray.

Speak of the devil! Beyond just walked in. He was wearing khaki pants and a black t-shirt. Holding a pile of books, he sat in front of me on the floor. "Hi," he mumbled, looking at the floor. I noticed that he seemed to hide his hands behind the pile of books. I guess he didn't like me attempting to gnaw off his pinky.

"Hello," I replied courteously. He looked up, surprise in his eyes. "I apologize for biting, kicking, screaming and slapping you, Beyond." My breathtaking politeness must have shocked him, because he just stared open-mouthed for a few moments. He scratched his scalp with a single finger and mumbled something inaudible. I raised my eyebrows, and he looked away before repeating what he'd said.

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the one who's been holding you here against your will..."

"Isn't it because bad people are going to rip me limb from limb, eat my innards, and gouge out my eyeballs to use as snazzy Christmas ornaments?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Then you're justified. Morally. Legally, you're still in trouble."

"I know...."

"So, am I forgiven?"

"Of course!" He frowned. I suppose he was (for some strange reason) shocked that I'd ever ask if he forgave me or not.

"Lovely. Now that we're on speaking terms again, I demand you tell me who in the world is after me," I snapped, pouncing when the kitten was weakest. Blinking, he opened his mouth, but I quickly interjected. "And don't change the subject!"

"I wasn't going to."

"Oh. Please continue, then." I cleared my throat, masking my embarrassment.

"Well, there's this thing. And I don't know if you'll be too happy that I told you. It's kind of.... you might not believe it. You probably won't, to be honest."

"I may very well not believe you, but it'd be better than not knowing anything," I nodded pointedly.

He bit his lip indecisively, then sighed. "Do you promise to not think I'm insane? Because I wouldn't lie to you. I promise."

"Beyond, I can't make any promises for sure, but I'll try to believe you. Is that good enough?"

He sighed. "Well, do you believe in vampires?"

"No."

"Oh."

"Why?"

"I am one."

"Very funny, now seriously, tell me why it's so important that the police can't protect me from this."

"I'm serious!"

"...."

"...."

"Beyond, vampires don't exist."

"They do, too!"

"Prove it."

"Look in my mouth!"

"I've seen your teeth before."

"No, look now!" He pulled his upper lip to reveal quite sharp canines. Indeed.

"That doesn't mean you're a vampire."

"I EAT BLOOD."

"....I can actually believe that, but—"

"Lawli, you know those two people you dreamed about!? Well, that was me. Yep! Me. I killed Rival Rune and Jade Jumpsuit for their blood. Okay?! Now whether you believe me or not, I don't care anymore. I'm going to tell you who's after you. There's this police force that the vampires elected to make way back in the 1700s. Vampires have always lived alongside humans, but we couldn't very well tell them we existed. If they knew, they'd never go near us, and then what food would we have? Anyway, this police force punishes vampires who break the rules. There's a vampire ruler of sorts, also, who controls the police force.

"The first vampire ruler, Ryuk, died a few hundred years ago. When Ryuk was around, vampires didn't have a set of written rules. It was more of a common sense protocol. "Don't tell anybody that you're a vampire" was basically the only real rule. But when Ryuk named the new ruler, things got strict. This new guy, Light Yagami, has some sort of god complex. He thinks he's the king. There's a group of vampires elected as a sort of advisory team to the leader. They're called the Yotsuba. That group was created in the first place to make sure that the guy in charge didn't get too full of himself, but Light just discards their input and acts on his own. He even made all these laws. We don't even have trials; if you're caught, you're punished.

"So, I've broken quite a few of these rules, but I always cover up when I break one of the big ones. With Rune and Jumpsuit, I didn't clean the mess, so even the humans know about it. Needless to say, Yotsuba found out. Unlike most vampires, I'm over 800 years old, so I have quite a bit under my belt. They can't directly mess with me, because I'm too dangerous. They know that you and I are friends, so they're trying to get you to get to me. But I'm not going to let that happen." He looked at me gravely.

I really didn't know what to say. I knew that he wasn't lying, or deluding himself into believing this. He was dead serious. As much as this story he told me seemed impossible, I felt like a dirty person when I tried to call him crazy. I knew he wasn't lying.

"So you're a vampire."

"Yes."

"And there's vampires that are after you."

"Yes," he nodded.

"And...." I blinked. Frowning, I asked, "They're.... they're trying to hurt me so you'll come quietly?"

"Yeah."

"Lovely."

"...Sorry."

"You'd better keep me safe," I threatened, wondering why I was smiling. Before I knew it, I was laughing. "Just don't drink my blood, okay?"

"I'd never do that," he gasped incredulously. "Why would you ever say that? I'd never hurt you like that. You're my friend! You don't honestly think I'd—"

"Chill out, I was kidding."

He pushed the pile of books towards me. "I just bought these for you. I figured you'd be bored...."

"Thank you, Beyond."

"Anytime." He grinned at me.

"You don't sparkle, right?"

"Pfft, of course not."

"Thought not."

"Yeah, she's got some imagination, that Meyer lady."

"You probably know that better than I do, Beyond."

"I do." He laughed, and I laughed with him, and in the midst of our carefree laughter, I knew things were going to be easier. There was still the issue of rabid, blood-drinking creatures trying to kill me brutally and use my lymphatic system as food. Also, there was the slight complication that my best friend was also one of those creatures. My fingers had pins and needles, too, but that's beside the point.

We were back on track. Technically, I wasn't going anywhere, but Beyond went places. Like the grocery store. And..... yeah, that's probably it.

**& & &**

"Namikawa. Higuchi. Please do explain to me why I didn't hear of your decision to take action against Lawliet Layne."

Two men were sitting in armchairs in front of a desk. One was sweating profusely while nervously wringing his hands, while the other was as calm as usual, if not calmer.

Higuchi stammered, "Well, sir, I... we...."

"We didn't know you weren't aware," cut in the smooth-as-ever Namikawa. "You didn't issue any orders, so we just assumed that you were going to let us handle it. You've chased after Beyond for so long, sir, we figured you wanted a short break."

Light huffed. "Bullshit, Namikawa. But it's pretty sounding bullshit, so I'll let you all live. I just got a new shipment of ties, so I'm in a good mood. Fuck off while it lasts, worms." He shooed the two men away with his hand. While Higuchi rushed out and nearly tripped over his own hastiness, Namikawa glided elegantly across the room, sending Light a knowing smile before shutting the door.

Leaning back in his chair, Light muttered, "Fucking Namikawa.... sexy bitch...."

**& & &**

**OMGZ. Are Light and Namikawa having a fling? **

**This chapter was more on a humorous note. At times, it was almost like a parody, but whatever. Tell me if you like this humor outlook! Have fun with this chapter folks. **

**Oh, and by the WAY. LightL WILL happen. Later. LightNamikawa: Already set in motion. Because I'm amazing. **

**This chapter still didn't quite reach 2,000 words. I feel slightly inadequate.**


	6. Convenient

**Ooooh, I want to thank the LOVELY Kari Twilight Mist for giving me so many gorgeous, muse-filled ideas! You created this chapter, my friend! SHE WINS BROWNIE POINTS. And I've offered her a oneshot. So if you guys (coughUNDERACHIEVERScough) want oneshots and brownie points, GIVE ME IDEAS! **

**No, I'm kidding. She gave me enough ideas for just about the whole middle section of this little story. Awesome, right? **

**Yeah, this chapter is LightNamikawa. Angrysex. Oh yum. Sorry if you guys think Light is a top, but in this relationship, he's the taker. I don't care what you say, LIGHT BOTTOMS FOR NAMIKAWA!**

**Oh and btw. The hot, frustrated gay sex was powered by Get You Home by Shwayze. Ohhh, yeah. **

**& & &**

Light paced back and forth in his office, growling. His perfection had been ruptured, and he knew it. Of course, his outer appearance was still flawless. Beige-colored pants, ironed to an extent which starch could not even make a stand against, rested on both of his legs. His shirt, white as an actor's tooth, had been washed on tumble dry (low heat, of course) and line-dried. It was the only way to take care of a button-down shirt, and Light took care of his clothes. His tie was brand-new, from the very shipment of ties he'd acquired hours before. It was black, with little golden rhombi in diagonal stripes across the tie. The little shapes were connected, their left and right corners touching.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand. Light had been disrespected. He knew it. Namikawa knew it. If he wasn't incredibly and unbelievably stupid, Higuchi would probably know it too. Well, maybe.

"How _dare_ he," the caramel-haired vampire hissed venomously. He turned on his heel and started walking towards the east wall of the room, anger in every step. "He _knows_ what we do is absolutely _not_ for work! He's just doing it to _tease _me, to try and tell me that he's the one calling the shots.... well, I'll show him...." He stomped over to his desk and pressed the intercom button that connected him directly to his secretary, Colleen. He didn't bother picking up the receiver, instead speaking loudly towards the phone, "Colleen, can you please call in Namikawa?"

"Yes, sir!" The cheerful voice came through and forced the smallest of smiles onto Light's face. The elderly woman sure was popular around this place. With her willingness to make wonderful casseroles, cookies and other food along with her amiable personality, Colleen was loved by everyone she came across.

"Thank you, Colleen." Light removed his finger from pressing the intercom button and sighed. Walking around the mahogany desk to sink into his large chair, he fiddled with a pen absently. Within moments, the door opened and the tall, thin frame of Namikawa entered, his hair gently swaying because of the movement in the air the door's opening caused. He smiled at Light and shut the door behind him, repressing a smirk.

"Reiji! You have to knock!" Light's whine would have ruined his intent to give Namikawa a piece of his mind if not for the fact that he whined on a daily basis.

"I sincerely apologize, my lord," Namikawa replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm and gleeful amusement.

"Oh, bullshit. Just shut up, you overbearing bitch. You disrespected me in front of Higuchi. What goes on between us does not leave the two of us," Light seethed. "Out of bed, I am in charge—"

"Did you just call me a bitch?" Namikawa's eyes were wide.

Light sat there with his mouth open for a few moments, appalled that Namikawa would interrupt him. He sputtered, "I.... yes, I did, now shut up! Like I was saying, you—"

"But I'm not a bitch." Namikawa folded his arms across his chest, a slight upturn in the corner of his lips.

"Yes, you are!" Light stood from his chair and walked over to face the dark-haired man, almost three inches separating their eyes. He had to look up to meet his lover's eyes, and this pissed him off to no end. How could he be intimidating this way?!

"I don't recall you being the one fucking me, Light." Namikawa's tiny smirk was growing into a small smirk as he spoke.

"Well... that.... that isn't what I mea—" Flustered, Light couldn't help the blush creeping into his cheeks. He growled, angry at the effect this man had on him.

"So you admit I'm not a bitch?" What was a small smirk was almost a half-sneer, the taller man's eyes dancing with bliss at this genuinely amusing scene.

"SHUT UP!"

"Why?"

"Just calm down!"

"You're the one having a cow, Light."

Light glared at Namikawa for a few seconds before throwing his arms around the older man's neck, his hands tangling in ebony locks as he pulled his lover down to meet his lips. Namikawa grinned and returned the spontaneous kiss. His hands snaked around his beautiful partner's waist as he met Light with teeth and tongue. Suppressing a whimper, the smaller man pressed his chest against Namikawa's. The kiss was not a loving one. It was desperate. These two men didn't feel anything for one another. They had sex because it was convenient. There was nothing between them except two layers of sweat and body heat, and there was never going to be anything but that.

Namikawa pressed Light into the couch before he hurried over to lock the door. Returning to his beautiful toy, he beamed excitedly. It was hard to believe that such a demanding, controlling little thing was all his to use or abuse as he wished. Light sat up, a small pout on his face, and the other man chuckled. Stalking over to straddle the boy on the couch, he placed a palm in the middle of his chest and pushed his toy flat against the couch.

Leaning down to latch his mouth to the pulsing skin of Light's neck, Namikawa grinned. He nibbled tantalizingly on the cold material, his hands working to take the black and gold tie from the younger vampire's neck. His partner fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, managing to remove the black article without ripping it (for once). Namikawa bit the surprisingly soft skin protecting the brunet's jugular and was surprised to hear a soft cry as his teeth punctured the top layer of his lover's body.

"Nnhh, Rei.... Reiji..." Light tightened his grip on the man's shoulders.

Not hearing any noises of protest, the dark-haired man went further into the neck of the man below him. Rupturing a blood vessel, he drank from the delicious boy he had complete control over. The taste of the thick liquid was nothing like that of even the finest human blood. It was pure bliss to imbibe oneself on such a treat.

Light whimpered, panting as he was violated by razor-sharp teeth. Being fucked by a subordinate was nothing compared to the level of taboo this act was on. He was showing utter submission to the man pinning him to his own furniture by letting him do this, and the strange thing was that Light honestly didn't care. He didn't resist, and he sure as hell didn't push his lover away.

Finally forcing himself to retract his fangs and pull away from the amazing taste of Light's blood, Namikawa grinned at Light and pressed his lips to the other boy's. The receiver of the two arched his back to meet his body to Namikawa's, biting at the lower lip belonging to his partner. The caramel-haired boy's hands were at work once more, reaching for the belt buckle rudely blocking his way from what he wanted so badly. After a few brief moments of blind attempts, the "perfect" boy managed to grasp the piece of leather and slide it through the metal square, tugging the strap from the circumference of his lover's belt loops and dropping it carelessly onto the floor.

The impatience so obvious in Light's movements brought a smile to Namikawa's face. Deciding not to tease the boy further with foreplay, Namikawa concentrated on the remaining clothes on both of them, and in seconds they were quite naked, their clothes folded neatly on the coffee table three feet away. Knowing Light didn't need any preparation, Namikawa held the boy's legs out and pushed inside, grunting. Light whined and moved his hips, his hands grasping his lover's rear end. Pulling the older man in further, Light moaned and pleaded broken requests. Namikawa couldn't really understand the words, but he knew what Light wanted.

Flesh melded and rubbed against mirroring flesh as Namikawa pounded into Light, evoking gasps, whines and even a single squeal (although that squeal had been cut short as soon as Light realized he was squealing). Soon enough, they were both as finished as finished could be, and Light smiled softly at the feeling of a warm body on his own. Well, he wasn't quite warm, but as warm as a vampire could get. Light didn't make Namikawa leave, and he didn't protest when Namikawa stood up, stepped into his pants, shrugged his shirt on, and left. He didn't care, because this was convenient, and that was all it'd ever be.

Convenient.

**& & &**

"Hey Mel, have you seen L lately?" Clutching a Playstation 2 controller, the redhead quickly voiced his question when his boyfriend sat beside him on the couch. Cursing avidly as his character was killed for the fourth time, he set the controller on the floor and looked into the blond's eyes.

"Actually, no. He hasn't been at school at all. I'm in his Criminology class and he hasn't showed up at all for a few days." Mello frowned as he realized this. "Oh, and his mail's been... piling...."

"You think we should tell someone?"

"The police might want to know." Mello shrugged, picking at a hangnail with mild interest.

"Then call them." Matt reached for his controller after speaking, but was intercepted by Mello grabbing his wrist, a pout on his face.

"You call them!" The blond huffed angrily, pointing to the phone.

"Why me?" Getting up was really not on the list of things to do for the relatively lazy ginger.

"You asked in the first place." Mello frowned, glaring at Matt.

"If you do it, I'll make chocolate meringues."

Matt raised an eyebrow. Mello sighed, reaching for his cell phone. "Fine. I'm top tonight, you lazy asshole."

"You want to have sex when our best friend is missing?" Matt's eyes were wide.

"I don't see how sex and L are related."

"It's a respect thing! We should be worrying, not having sex!"

"You're still taking it."

"..... Fine."

"Thank you, Matty."

"Whatever." Matt watched as Mello called 911, sighing. He turned to lie down on the couch, his head resting on a pillow. His feet were pressing against Mello's stomach, and the blond rubbed his toes with one hand while he waited for an answer.

"911, What is your emergency?" A male voice was carried through the line, sounding tired and uninterested.

"Uh, hi, I'm Mihael Keehl, and my friend who lives in the apartment across the hall from me hasn't been in college and his mail's starting to pile up. Can I file a missing person's report?"

"Sir, this line is for emergencies. I'll put you through to the police department, okay?" Without waiting for a reply, Mello was put on hold. The blond looked at his phone, which was beeping repeatedly to show that it was on hold.

"He put me on hold."

Matt laughed. "Are they allowed to do that?"

"Well, I guess it's not a real emergency, so yeah. But they put me on _hold_." Mello scowled distastefully. "Hey, try calling L." Matt took out his phone and pressed his speed dial for L's number. A full two minutes later with no success from Matt, Mello's line was picked up and another male voice greeted Mello. This man sounded like he was in his thirties, unless he had a seriously bad cold and was younger than that.

"Hello, this is the police department."

"Hi, I'm Mihael Keehl. My call was sent to you from 911. Um, my friend isn't answering his phone, he hasn't been in school, and his mail has been piling up in his box. Can I file a missing person report or something?"

"How old is the person in question, and what is their legal name?"

"Um, his name's Lawliet Layne. His first name is spelled L-A-W-L-I-E-T, and his last name is spelled L-A-Y-N-E. He's twenty three."

"How long has he been missing?"

"Um, about three days, maybe three and a half?"

"Okay, and do you have a photo you can bring in?"

"Yeah, I do, actually. Do you want me to swing by?"

"Yes, please. Thank you very much. The sooner you can give us that photo, the sooner we can find your friend."

"I'll come by right now," Mello smiled. "Thanks so much, officer."

"Of course. Good bye, Mr. Keehl." Mello closed his phone and smiled at Matt.

Matt raised his eyebrows. "Well?"

"Chill, dude. I have to bring a photo down, do you want to come with me?"

"Duh! Oh my god, this is gonna be awesome! The police department!" Matt jumped up, grinning.

Mello smiled. Grabbing the photo of Lawliet stuck on the fridge with a magnet, Mello pocketed his motorcycle keys and left the apartment, Matt trotting along behind him.

**& & &**

**OH my god. LightNamikawa. SO HAPPENIN', BITCHESSS. I, personally, am loving this chapter. Tell me what you think, slaves. **

**IF YOU HAVE ALERTED/FAVORITED AND NOT REVIEWED, I AM OFFENDED. So review. And also, please review chapter five before reviewing chapter six, if you haven't reviewed.**

**It's just cool to review, people. It's not always bad to go with the crowd. **

**33 Much love to my pretty fans. **


	7. Police

**A/N: I just read "Heir Apparent" by Vivian Vande Velde, and I'm inspired for a fantasy thing for DN. Oooh. I'll finish BP first, though. Anyway, this chapter is an introduction for a couple characters. In the next few chapters I'll bring in my other vamps. The rule-breaking ones. Oh yus. There are good guys like Beyond, don't worry! Not all vampires are cockblockers like Light! XDD**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**By the way, I wrote this chapter last week but I didn't have enough motivation to get off my ass and post it. So sorry about that. REVIEW. Anyway, have fun. :3**

**& & &**

To any passerby, the two young men standing beside a vermillion Camaro would seem out of their minds. Fighting loudly and without inhibition, a blond and a redhead were shouting about who was driving. The redhead, the actual owner of the car, was caressing the wide mirror. The Camaro itself, circa 1975, seemed to sigh exasperatedly at the bickering men.

"She's mine!" The redhead roughly grinded the sole of his boot into the asphalt, groaning wordlessly as he strained to protect his greatest pride and joy from the terror of another man.

"You get to top tonight," hissed Mello under his breath. "And I let you ride my motorcycle!"

"Well, my baby isn't some common whore! We've built up years of trust between the two of us! Maybe you lend out your bike like a temporary boyfriend, but this is my treasure!" Matt gaped, appalled, at his lover as the blond extended a leather-gloved hand to touch the hood of the car. A mischievous smirk was painted on his lips—those same lips that snapped insults like a striking cobra. Swiftly slapping the hand away, he growled menacingly at the blond.

Seeing that an argumentative view wasn't going to win this, Mello changed methods. Walking over to Matt and sliding his arms around the ginger's waist, he breathed, "Matty, don't you trust me?"

"O-of course I trust you.... I just don't want anybody driving her...." Matt tried to push Mello away, finding it hard to concentrate of protecting the beauty of his car with his enticing boyfriend (that boyfriend using the knowledge that he was enticing) being so sexy. Mello's close proximity to him wasn't helping either.

"Matt, please?" Mello took Matt's protesting hands into his own, looking into the eyes opposite his.

Emerald met sapphire; Matt had to close his eyes to push Mello away. Fire in the redhead's gaze, he pointed at Mello's bike. "You. Drive your bike. I don't want you in my car."

Mello frowned. "Bullshit, Matt. Just let me drive!"

"No! You can't be sexy like that! It's not fair!" Matt stamped his foot angrily, grabbing Mello's arms and trying to keep him at bay, but the blond wriggled out of the grip by twisting his arms upwards.

"Life isn't fair, Matty." A wicked smile, a flash of leather. Mello had slipped into the passenger's seat, hoisting himself over the cupholder because he'd entered through the driver's side. Matt pressed his lips together in frustration, but his expression softened as Mello's smile met his eyes when he bent down to look at the blond. "Well, are we going?" Mello's sweet chirp heaved a sigh from the formerly peeved redhead.

"Yeah." Matt sat down in the old leather seat, gently caressing the steering wheel ceremoniously before closing the car door and pushing the key into the ignition. Coaxing the refurbished automobile into life was no chore; he'd revived his acclaimed "wife" with the skills of a veteran mechanic. Soon enough, the two men were on the road and headed to the police station, Mello fiddling with the small photo of Lawliet as his boyfriend drove seamlessly.

Reaching the police department's visitor parking lot, Matt exited his wife and shut the door carefully. Knowing Mello had a tendency to slam doors, he called, "Careful with the door, okay?"

"God, you're so fucking straight for this car. I can't believe you act this way about a hunk of metal, and not me," the blond whined.

Flinching at the insult thrown at his car, Matt huffed. "Mel, you know I love you. But it's my car. It's.... I'm not in love with it like I am with you. You're more important to me than any car will ever be. I promise."

Mello couldn't help but melt under the warmth and sweetness of those words, smiling softly at the ginger. "Thanks," he whispered. Walking around the car to hold Matt's hand, he murmured, "Let's go."

Matt took a few moments to lock his car, spitefully ignoring the protests from Mello that nobody is stupid enough to steal a car in front of the police station, and that no sane human would want to steal _his_ car of all cars.

The police station itself was nothing special. It was a three-story building, made of red bricks. As per usual with courthouses, police buildings and political buildings, there were Ionic columns before the front entrance. Police officers were bustling about; some were stapling papers to the billboard outside the building, some were leaning against a patrol car and chatting, and the two boys even saw a few men who must have been detectives hastily making towards a blue sedan, folder in the hand of the leader.

Entering the brick building and turning towards a desk, Matt smiled. "Hi, there. My boyfriend and I called earlier about a missing person's report, and we have a photo."

"Um, wait a moment, let me check the call list," a stout female officer said kindly, scrolling through phone records on her computer. "Are you Mihael Keehl?"

Mello nodded. "Yeah, that's me."

"You want to look for Ide. He should be in General Affairs, the wing down this corridor and to the left." The woman smiled and pointed in the direction she'd instructed Mello and Matt to go.

"Thanks, miss," Mello smiled good-naturedly, making his way down the hall. Matt trailed after him, stopping to look at photos and awards on the wall occasionally. Mello dutifully tugged him along, trying to look more serious than his redheaded counterpart was acting. "Behave," he said quietly in the ginger's pale ear. "This isn't a place to fool around in."

Matt nodded, and although he took control of his giggles and resisted the urges to look closely at everything, he simply couldn't wipe the amused smirk from his face. He dared not give Mello a verbal reply, knowing it might erupt into a fit of laughter.

Looking through a doorless arch in the wall, Mello glanced at the plaque over the top of the rounded opening. Sure enough, it read "GENERAL AFFAIRS." He looked at Matt and walked inside, knowing Matt would follow him. Matt was reliable in the sense that not only was he (usually) predictable, but he was the perfect match for Mello. The two of them really knew each other inside and out. Having known one another since the first grade, Mello and Matt have had a decent fifteen years to get to know one another. First as friends, then more recently as lovers. They had such a stunning foundation of love, understanding and deep-seated trust that could only stem from a friendship such as theirs had been—and still continues to be, because what is love without friendship?—that the power of such a bond was something they believed was theirs alone. No one else in this world truly understood love. Not like Mello and Matt did.

The two of them knew exactly how to treat each other. For sex, and for any other situation, they knew what to do. They knew when to press on and when to surrender; they knew when to act and when to react. Every single detail was memorized, and they still managed to completely spice up their intimate life without a hitch. For example, Matt was almost completely and utterly under Mello's thumb. He would do whatever the blond said. Unlike the fiery blond, he was rather compliant and didn't need everything to go his way. Mello, on the other hand, was very controlling. It was his way or the highway. Although Matt was always eager to please Mello, he also continued to be lazy. A consistency in the duo's home life was the scenario of Mello telling Matt to do something while he goes to do errands, and he comes home to find the task half-done and Matt playing some video game.

Matt usually paid off his "debt" in bed.

Unless Matt was extremely angry, he'd follow Mello everywhere. Once, Mello accidentally threw out Matt's Zelda: Ocarina of Time game for the N64, and the redhead has been so positively furious that Mello knew true fear. He had actually been scared for his life. The look in Matt's eyes had brought the prideful blond to his knees, begging for forgiveness in a manner unheard of to anyone who knew Mello. To this very moment—and most likely until he dies—he denies ever pleading like he did that day. In the end, Matt had forced the blond to look through the dumpster for his game after holding the chocolate stash hostage.

Mello maneuvered through the maze of desks before stopping at a desk with a name plate on it that had "Ide" on a slip of paper. The small piece of parchment was slid between a panel of glass and the metal stand. The blond student supposed that they usually didn't have permanent name plates for lower-ranked officers. That kind of thing was probably for the chiefs and department heads.

"Um, hello," greeted the blond, procuring a glance from the police man. The man returned his attention to the paperwork he'd been filing before, grunting an acknowledgement to the two men in front of him. Mello frowned, carefully placing his hands on the edge of the wooden desk, gripping tightly. "I said hello."

Ide looked up again. "Can you wait one second? I need to finish this."

Mello shouted angrily, "MY FRIE—" He bit his lip, taking a deep breath. Letting go of the desk, he closed his eyes. "Sure," he said softly. Matt looked at his other half in concern, but the older boy shook his head, motioning for the gamer to stay quiet.

Ide raised an eyebrow at Mello's sudden outburst, but returned to his file. Placing three more files in the accordion folder, he placed the large black object—now brimming with files and paper—in the bottom drawer in his desk. He scratched out a note on a post it that had been attached onto the side of his computer monitor, crumpling the bright green piece of sticky paper and dropping it into the waste bin under his desk. Resting his forearms on the table's surface, he laced his fingers together and asked, "Yes?"

"I called about a missing person report about half an hour ago," Mello declared. "I have a photo for it."

"Lawliet Layne?" Ide groaned as he opened the drawer he had just closed, pulling out a file and slapping it down on the desk. "Just stick the photo in there. We'll call you if anything turns up."

Matt blinked. "Is that it? He's just going into the file until you feel like it?"

"Sorry, but that's how this works," Ide replied. "We don't give missing person reports priority over criminals."

Matt bit his lip, pondering what would happen if he attacked this asshole. Most likely a month or two in the pen. Was it worth it? Getting raped.... attacking the dickhead.... getting raped.... attacking the dickhead.... hmm. Finally, Matt shrugged. "Fine. Mel, let's go." And he dragged his blond boyfriend out of the police station, surprised that he was the one on the verge of killing the officer and not Mello. Maybe Mello was just in a good mood. If that was the case, he might even be able to top the leather-wearing man without a fight.

But probably not.

**& & &**

When one thinks "detective," they usually image a trenchcoat-wearing, hard-jawed middle aged man, usually attractive or mysterious. Most of the time, the general public would not imagine a frail, thin boy with milky skin and matching hair. Skinny, tiny and fragile, Nate Rivers was anything but ordinary. He was a prodigy, a young boy of only seventeen, although he appeared to be twelve at the oldest. With wide, speculating eyes of a deep, dark grey hue and thin, delicate fingers that nestled habitually in a twirl of white hair, "creepy" would be a close description to Nate. His voice, void of inflection of any kind, only added to the abnormal whole that he was.

Known as "N" to the world (and "Near" to his investigation team), Nate was the world's most talented and respected detective. He had never failed to solve a case, and right now, the teenager was all but calm. Of course, on the outside he was as stoic as ever, but inside he was positively shrieking in anger. On the RRJJ case, there was no forensic evidence. There were no leads. There was not a single clue. Nate couldn't even find one witness! This case was almost nonexistent! He'd been looking for hours at photos, reading theories on both the internet and from his investigation team, and there was _nothing_.

Turning towards his assistant, a man in his mid twenties of Italian descent, he said quietly, "Gevanni, would you be so kind as to go and buy me a puzzle of five thousand or more pieces?"

The dark-haired man nodded, turning on his heel to heed the albino boy's words. Because with Near, nothing was ever a request. It was a command, no matter how soft-spoken or trivial it was.

And Gevanni was there to help. Always.

**& & &**

**OMG! It's Near! I love him so much :3 ANYWAY. DO you like how I made him like L in canon? Like, L had the alias "Ryuzaki," and my Near has "Near." AWESOME, RIGHT?!!?**

**Okay, so I'm leaning towards GevannixNear for this because I'm obsessed with shota, but if you want something different for our little baby Near REVIEW WITH YOUR IDEA. OR ELSE I WILL NEVER KNOW WHAT AWESOME COUPLE COULD HAVE BEEN!!!  
**

**So yeah, loves. Review. :3**

**(This is the longest chapter since chapter two I think 8D)**


	8. MUST READ

**Hello there. This is Christie's friend Ben. She wanted everyone to know that she's in the hospital and won't be back for any time period between three weeks and a month. She might be able to be in contact if you have her IM. I don't know if she wants me to say why she's in the hospital so if she wants to tell you guys I'll leave that to her. She also wants to say that for those of you who have alerted/favorited/whatever: if you guys haven't reviewed every chapter yet and she sees that you guys haven't taken fifteen minutes to review while she's away, she'll stop all stories because she feels unloved. Or something. **

**So basically, hold on for her to get better again, and review. **

**-Ben**


	9. BACK!

BACK! I'm back from the hospital, whoo! Actually, I've been back for quite a while, I just had lots of school stuff AND I was a lazy bum. Ooops? WELL ANYWAY. I'll try to get a chapter done soon, but I'm going away this Saturday for TEN DAYS! Oh no! My spring break won't be a time to write, guys. I'm going to be PIMPIN' IN ITALY. So yeah. School overseas trips = WIN IN EPIC PROPORTION.

Also, I just saw Romeo and Juliet, and I'm obsessed with speaking Fakespeare, so I might do a Shakespeare-esque story.

SOYEAH. Mofos, get ready for Christie to start being active again. After these next interim grades come out, I'm going to be writing a lot more because I'm switching schools and THIS interim's grades are the ones they'll base my classes off of in high school. After this, I'm going to have some Senioritis. But it'll be Eighth-Grade-itis. Yeah.

ALSO. JUST TO CLEAR SOME SHIT UP. I am very sorry for Ben. He's like.... a psycho and when he saw I had not so many reviews, he was all "CHRIS NEEDS REVIEWS GRAWR" and repeated something I must have said under influence of painkillers. SO DO NOT FEEL PRESSURED TO REVIEW. I WILL NEVER STOP WRITINNNGGGG. Ever.

HEARTZ TO MA HOES.

From Christie

OH BTW. THIS STORY HAS 69 REVIEWS. teehee.


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